That Girl, That Body, That World
by thelonelylovechild
Summary: "Terry Daimler" had died and in another world "Lalonde Durless", daughter of the infamous Madame Red, took her place. SI Oc-Insert. Sebastian/Oc. Rated M for later chapters.
1. That Girl, That Durless Heir

_Veni, vidi, vici._

_I lived, I saw, I_ _conquered_.

A mantra she had taken to heart was now a mantra that excluded her.

She was not a religious person, she wasn't a Buddhist, or a Christian, or anything remotely spiritually restrictive. Everyone had theories of what happened once you die and in her opinion when you died, your molecular energy returned to wherever it came from. Whether it was heaven, hell, or the in between. She just knew that energy could not be destroyed or created but it can be moved.

Before this she had been a plain, unassuming girl named "Terry". She hadn't been an exotic or poised as much as simple and unnoticeable, but then again that was how she liked it.

"Terry" was a girl of few and sparse hobbies as she prefered to spend her precious time in different ways. Though those she did have she practiced diligently.

"Terry" had possessed that name for the 19 years she had lived, gone to daycare, preschool, kindergarten, high school, and finally college.

Terry had gone to school for pharmacy but took up an elective as a psychoanalyst to even out her timetable as suggested by her counselor.

"Terry" had been terribly bright and had a future in medicine or if she had decided to her mind, maybe even a therapist. She had a road paved in platinum laying at her feet even if hard work had never been her forte. So why you may ask, if she didn't like strain, would she choose such a complicated course like pharmaceutical practices?

Her reasoning was simple. Expectations.

"Terry" was a sick and frail child, possessing a cancerous disease infecting her immune system since birth she was supposed to die after the first week. Since receiving the news she was never expected to so anything like her family did. Whether it was about housework, education, eating, walking, or even blinking as they did!

"Terry" was expected to do as other ill children did and die like a pitiful, tearing, pathetic child cowering in her fear and misery.

Like hell she would just roll over and submit to their stupid and illogical expectations.

So like any young rebelling child she had gone against their wishes. "Terry" had picked up her weak body and forced it through the long process of schooling.

And like "Terry" tell you, having so many of her teachers attempting to coddle and provide her with the pity she already received at home got old quick. They learnt their lesson as soon as she reached the requirements to be skipped up a grade.

But even if she had done well it didn't change the fact that slowly she was dying. And die she did.

Laying in the hospital with a breathing tube in her mouth and gusts of oxygen forcing its way down her throat "Terry" reflected on her life.

"Terry's" 'family' had stayed around her for perhaps a few days before moving on like she had already croaked. They all had their lives to carry out, what use was it to fret over on that shouldn't even have existed? Though the sting still sparked in her chest it didn't hurt her, in fact she expected it. But their was no level of abandonment that could take away the fact that she had lasted longer than anyone could have predicted. So in "Terry's" book she had issued every medical profession a big fuck you and goodbye.

Besides she would rather have her last moments to herself than be swarmed with people she had never been that close to anyways. And she liked to think her family knew her enough as the recluses and observant girl she was to stay away until she was gone.

It hadn't been quick, the process, she had laid there for weeks breathing capability leaving her bit by bit her body wasted away to nothing. It hadn't been particularly painful in the traditional sense but a stifling kind that carried a heavy crushing pressure that never left her.

And when "Terry's" heart finally began to fail she was barely able to roll her eyes at the panicked and worried faces of the doctors as they shouted for her parents. Ha, like they were going to stick around and wait for to pass on when they already knew the outcome. Her "family" didn't work that way.

Honestly it was like no one had read her diagnosis chart or something, there was no need to look so shocked.

"Terry's" attitude may have seemed cynical but she had long since made her peace with her condition. Sure in the beginning she cried and screamed and raged hell but as she grew older and more capable of managing her emotions she realized there was nothing she could do but wait for the reaper himself to come.

Eyes grew heavy, breathes grew faint and laden with strain as voices fell on deafened ears. They were doing all they could to save "Terry" but it was a waste of resources.

Within the hour "Terry Daimler" had been pronounced dead, cause: system failure.

Usually one would think that would have been the end. No more conscious thought or beating hearts. Once you were gone you were gone. Vamoose, Hasta la Vista. "Terry", being the practical and level-headed cusping woman she had been, thought that too.

Up until she suddenly was not suspended inside of an endless void and was sent hurtling towards white and found herself settling in black.

She wasn't sure just how long the black had kept her captive, only that it was the thing she was most familiar with. At times she felt almost physical as if she had a presence within her dark space.

She even swore she could hear soft voices murmuring to her in muted words. Maybe that could be taken as a sign of going slowly insane but to tell the truth she was glad for the company.

Her monotonous existence continues on. Always in the dark, always hearing voices, always feeling a body she was sure wasn't there, and she was contented in her abyss.

That was until the pain came. It struck hard and sharp surprising her with its intensity and she could feel everything around her lurch in tandem.

A heavy ringing set in her head as everything shook, twisted, and pulled. And suddenly she couldn't breathe in the air she didn't know she was somehow inhaling. She could feel the life she never noticed belonged to her slipping past her fingers as something tightened over her neck and she froze.

"..._her_..._now_..._hurt_..._**OUT**_!" The voice screamed angry and fearful loud enough to invade her sphere and everything exploded into white and movement.

Blinking furiously against the onslaught of raw sensation after the shift she clenched her eyes shut and with that action she became increasingly aware of herself.

She could blink, she could shut her eyes. Yes she could do all that back in her circle but that has been more of a mental compulsion. This shouldn't have been possible, her body was gone, she wasn't in the material plane anymore. That was unless-

"Is she okay?" A faint feminine voice asked, drawing her away from her new(?) life crisis and for the first time she noticed the hands encasing her body. "She's not crying, is she okay?"

"Yes miss, she is doing well considering the lack of sound." A male voice assured. "Perhaps give or take a few months premature but quietness is common among the weaker bodied infants."

"Can I hold her?" The woman pleaded, tone desperate.

"For a bit," The man nodded. "while I set up a room for her."

She could feel herself being moved and slowly her senses were readjusting to being thrusted into this foreign situation. Finally she could feel the blanket swathing her miniature form in a snug coddle. And she was most definitely sure she was tiny for how else could she fit into the palm of this woman's hand?

Steeling herself with all her previous mental discipline she forced herself to move her ridiculously uncoordinated limbs in a clumsy tango. How embarrassing.

Various scenarios and explanations flitted through her mind at a breakneck speed. There was no denying she had died. That much she was sure of; but then what was this? How did it happen? She was a child, a new born and there way it could have been time travel.

This woman no matter her vision made her look, was not her old(?) mother and she without a doubt came from her. Where her mother had been a dark blonde, this lady had a curtain of deep blood red hair. Where her she had wood bark brown eyes, she had ones that matched the unique shade of her brightly colored tresses.

This was not the woman how birthed "Terry" but the one who produced "her".

The only other option that fit this situation was reincarnation. Despite her logical mind she wasn't really that adverse to accepting and believing that somehow her soul had been gift wrapped in a different skin. "Terry" had been a girl with a loose belief so though this shocked and stupefied her, coming to terms would be easy task for her.

Turning her attention outward she refocused her bleary eyes on her mother(?) and squinted in faint recognition. Her face seemed so familiar...

Listening to her coo and smile in teary happiness did "Terry" learn the name this body and by extension she received.

Lalonde. Her new "mother" had named her Lalonde. It was unusual, much more dignified than "Terry" and with surprising (or maybe not) ease she adjusted to the title.

"Your father picked that one." Her mother explained, a sorrowful pained expression painted on her exhausted face. " I thought it was a bit strange sounding." She laughed, a tab bit bitter.

"Now it's the singularly most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Crying rather had Lalonde could feel a drop of dread enter her system. Her new "father" had died then? That explained why she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since becoming aware. Focusing intently she slowly raised one hand and started the painstakingly long process of clutching her fingers around a lock of hair.

Soon the woman noticed her grip and smiled with glittering eyes.

"Trying to comfort your mother huh? Lolly?" She said wiping her red eyes. "So much like him."

Shifting her fragile body to the crook of her arm Lalonde thought back to the doctor's words about her prematurity and wanted nothing more than to let out a long, sailor worthy string of curses. And she would have if she hadn't been so sure it would come out sounding like wet gurgles.

Eyes reluctantly falling shut aided by the gentle rocking motion and light beating of her heart, Lalonde the new born baby, feel asleep.

* * *

From her dark cocoon to her prisoner's room in the hospital. For months-MONTHS!-she had been kept here, turned into a pin cushion and subjected to staring at white masked faces all. Day. Long.

The only reprieve she got from this whole debacle was the daily visits to her mother (who was also interned as a patient) which lasted for an hour.

Lalonde looked forward to these times so it came as a shock when roughly around two thirty she hadn't been ritually picked up and carted off to another room. Instead she was carried right past her door and into a place with roses on the ceiling. Laying there in her cloth bundle Lalonde frowned minutely. Where were they bringing her if not to her mother?

Shivering minutely she let out a sound of protest as she was stripped from her blanket and clothes and was set in a shallow basin of water.

Wash clothes swiped over skin and the scent of soap filled her sensitive nostrils for a long while before she was lifted out and toweled off.

Watching as they slipped startlingly pink baby clothes onto her small frame and she grimaced internally. If she looked anything like her mother she would bet her left lung it clashed horribly.

The nurse who had dressed her wrapped her back into a different blanket, this one gray and swept her from the room.

Apparently wherever they were taking her was a secret because not just her body was covered buy her face as well.

Furrowing her small brow Lalonde's curiosity and confusion was relieved when the blanket was pulled back and her mother's smiling face was displayed.

"Ah, there's my little girl." She chirped, moving her into the circle of her arms, planting a kiss on her rounded cheek. "I bet you were wondering why you weren't immediately taken to see your mama."

She may have been just a tad confused.

Moving them towards a black expensive looking carriage she grinned softly with the look of excitement printed on her face. "Well I have some fantastic news!" Her mother announced, her British accent positively blooming. "We get to go home! We've both been cleared as healthy!"

Unsure how to react but pleased to be leaving Lalonde settled with flashing her mother a gummy smile and snuggling into her as the ride started.

Drifting off to the sound of her mother's endless chatter she wondered if falling asleep during the process of scenic transitions would become the norm for her.

* * *

The next time she awoke it had been to the sound of her mother having a conversation with another docile sounding female.

"Mistress, you must sleep. I know that you have been recuperating in the sick ward but the birth was very difficult, rest please, I will care with Miss. Lalonde!" The woman pleaded, worry tinting her words.

Laughing gaily her mother shifted her small body closer and grinned.

"I'm perfectly fine Elena, better than fine, great even!" She said with a wave of her hand. "Besides I haven't fed her yet and that is hardly a task you could do."

Lalonde had long since grown accustomed to the thought of this woman's nipple being placed in her mouth and was able to minimize the disgusted scrunching up of her nose.

"Anyhow haven't I told you to address me by name?" Her mother questioned, slipping her gown over shoulders.

Elena looked stricken as if a knife had been driven into her heart.

"B-but it is not proper for a lady of your standing to-"

"Bah! Who gives a damn about proper! I will not answer if you do not use my given name." The red headed woman declared stubbornly, delicate jaw locking.

As she listened Lalonde deduced that her mother must be pretty high on the social ladder to have a servant refuse familiar speech so profusely.

"But M-Mistress!" The maid gasped incredulous though her mother merely turned her attention towards her child.

After a few minutes of deliberated silence Elena spoke resignedly.

"Mistress Angelina."

With a raised brow her mother, Angelina (so familiar) looked at the blushing blonde and smiled in triumph.

"I guess that's as good as it will get for now. Tell me, has my sister and her husband visited here?"

Elena shook her head. "No mistress Angelina, how could they know to if you didn't tell her the child survived?"

"Technicalities," Angelina brushed off with a careless shrug. "what good would it have done to inform Rachel and Vincent if I had lost my baby after a few weeks?"

Lalonde skillfully ignored the organic feeding utensil in her mouth and frowned at the named. She knew them but from where was the key question?

"Well," Elena began with a thoughtful huff. "I'm sure the Phantomhives as well as others would be positively delighted to meet the heir of the infamous Madame Red."

Like before everything inside of her froze and twisted tight. Halted by those names that by all means shouldn't be linked with anything having to do with her. Could it be coincidence? A fluke? A joke?

And what was this about being the heir to Madame Red? Lalonde couldn't possibly be. Unless that was who her mother was.

Turning her head fast enough to give herself whiplash she faced her mother and stared hard until her features cleared and evened out and this time she really looked.

She was a beautiful woman, her previously longer hair was cut into a neat and stylish bob, thin red coated lips, aquiline nose paired with cheerfully flushed pale skin.

Yes, her mother was a sight to see, in fact she looked exactly as she remembered. Down the smallest fiber and littlest nuance.

Angelina Durless, sister to Rachel Durless neé Phantomhive who married Vincent, both of which had a son named Ciel. A sweet boy who became an orphaned child when his parents (her aunt and uncle!) were murdered, then was kidnapped, contracted a devil, and became the lackey of the lady who most likely had his mom and dad killed.

He was going to be her _cousin_. Angeline Durless, canonically "the ripper", her _mother_, was his _aunt_.

Lalonde was eventually going to get tangled up with the Queen's watchdog and his destroy-anything-that-impedes-my-quest-for-Ciel's-soul demon...

Oh sweet merciful Mary the Virgin, his _demon_!

She had just been reborn! Albeit into the fictional Japanese world of Black Butler but alive all the same! Lalonde had no desire to be ripped apart by a pissed of demon-or whatever else went bump in the night-that could possibly smell all the ripe knowledge she could use to her benefit spinning around in her head, decide she was threat, and kill her.

Hell, he probably wouldn't get rid of her for being a problem but because it would be fun. She would bet reincarnated souls were like cotton candied syrup for demons, a rare delicacy!

Not to mention the death gods! Even if she hadn't died in this world she had died in hers and took another body. Whose to say that they can't sense the fact that she was an anomaly? What if they decided to kill her for cheating death? And just how would she stop them for doing so?

Lalonde needed a plan, she had roughly two to eight years before Ciel was born to prepare herself. She needed to insure her survival social Darwinism taught her that much. The fittest reached the top while the weakest perished and if she wanted to stay alive she would need to become important whether it was emotionally, intellectually, or anything in between.

Lalonde would not be safe if she was even remotely linked with Ciel. Lizzy and her mother were prime examples.

The way she saw it she had two choices, become a key component or stay her hand and try her best to keep out of it.

In either situation she would need to become a favorite of Ciel's or at the very least someone who would be missed by a group with influence.

Familial bonds only traveled so far. Ciel had ordered her mother to be killed and Sebastian would have killed her if Grell hadn't done it first. If that wasn't proof she didn't know what was. Granted she was out in London murdering prostitutes but it showed that blood was no barrier in dealing with the young lord. Stand in his way, you go down.

If Lalonde somehow found herself unable to sit it out she would need to pick a side because right now, with all thr life threatening things he would face (not everyone had a pet demon waiting to help out) she wasn't sure if Ciel's was the best choice for her.

First things first, as soon as she was able she would figure out if this was manga-verse or the anime.

She had seen both seasons of the anime and had read up to the Circus arc, parts of when he was at the school, and on the titanic.

Now more than ever she was regretting not following up on the series even when she had gotten sick. Though in her defense she hadn't though she would have ended up in a different universe.

Turning her head towards her mother she wanted to sigh, in theory that all seemed easy but she knew everything would lead to complication.

The question was would she be able to handle it all?

Closing her eyes she fell into a light snooze.

Probably not, but she'd sure as hell try.

* * *

**So this is my new Oc self insert into Black Butler! I know I know, I have like fifty other stories but don't I care for them all? No? Well let's pretend I do. **

**Yes, this is a Sebastian/Oc fanfiction but keep in mind Sebby is a demon. He does not love as humans do, does not give affection as humans do, so please do not expect him to be all mushy. He is a sadist at heart and I like my demons, demonic. Review and enjoy! **

**Oh yes and to my lovely would be editor, I didn't type this out until today and I wanted it out pronto so I decided to do my best fixing it. I'll send you the next chapter!**


	2. That Girl, That Aunt

The first time Lalonde had met her Aunt Rachel it had been in a flurry of long dark hair, excited blue eyes, and screaming.

The part time tutor and nanny her mother had hired, Cecile, and she had been in the middle of a lesson in French (she was not yet a year old but her mother wanted her to grow up speaking the language of her father) when the sound of a door breaking open made her jump. Cecile's panicked eyes widened as she took a protective step closer to her. Both set of eyes turned to the darkened doorway in horror as the slim, petite figure known as irate woman entered the foyer.

"**HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME ANGELINA?!**" The female raged, intent on getting answers and Lalonde cringed from her spot on the floor. "**I THOUGHT YOU WOULD HAVE TRUSTED ME ENOUGH! I DEMAND TO SEE MY NICE RIGHT NOW**-oh, hello there sweetie." All of that anger ended with a curious smile and intent look that unsettled her. The way a person of the fairer sex could change emotions so quick never ceased to amaze her.

Deciding it was best to play the cute card Lalonde gave a teething smile and cooed.

With a high pitched squeal Rachel rushed forward and scooped her little form up.

"You look so much like Angie it should be a sin!" She gushed, cuddling her close. "From her hair to her smile, I swear you could be her twin instead of me!"

Holding her at an arm's length away their gazes met. "Except for those molten colored eyes! That you definitely received from Francis!"

Lalonde had yet to see a picture of her father so she took her word for it.

"Come Vincent! Doesn't she just look stunning!" The woman, Rachel(?) called, turning to present her to a Ciel look alike with swept back hair. He was handsome she supposed, and she could definitely see the appeal in marrying a man like him for all her asexual tendencies.

"She certainly is a bonny child." He smiled holding his arms out and Lalonde decided to be accommodating for once and reached for him. Settling in his arms she laid her doddering head on his shoulder and let out a little sigh.

Holding her head up and interacting was a tiring thing for her underdeveloped small body but she deigned to do it if it meant eventually growing stronger.

Watching her anxious foreign tutor flutter nervously muttering lowly in French Lalonde observed her with a bit of amusement. It must been nerve fraying watching your charge be friendly with people you hadn't been informed of. Lalonde's blossoming conscious kicked in and she took pity on the too worried woman and squirmed in her uncle's hold before making a grabbing motion towards the blonde Parisian.

Quickly Cecile walked forward and scooped her up looking relieved beyond her years.

"_Mademoiselle Angeline ne m'a pas dit de tous les visiteurs_ _aujourd'hui_."(1) She muttered with a tsk before walking both of them back to her learning space.

Settling back Cecile didn't place her back on the floor but in her lap as she dutifully recited the alphabet, the numbers, and basic item names with the pictures back to her from the top.

"Lady Phantomhive!" The familiar voice of Elena exclaimed, not expecting the visit and Lalonde turned to face the woman.

"Ah, it is good to see you again Elena." Her aunt smiled, lips frozen in an icy jovial expression. "So tell me, how long have you known about Angie's daughter?"

Lalonde could see all the normally vibrant color drain from the flaxen haired maid's face at the question as her eyes shifted left. Heh, such an adorable girl.

"I-I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about Lady Phantomhive." Elena evaded horribly, the nervous sweat on her forehead entirely too telling. "Now if Lord Phantomhive and you would kindly make your way to the veranda, Mistress will be done in a bit-"

"Elena!"

"**I WAS TOLD A FEW HOURS BEFORE YOU CAME BY TO VISIT**!" She shrieked, obviously not used to lying or avoiding someone she was well acquainted with.

Internally shaking her head Lalonde sighed, that was really something her mother needed to work on with her.

"Sister I beg you, stop badgering my clientele. Good help is very hard to find and I find I quite like Elena and plan to keep her in my service." And seeking of her mother, she was currently making her way down the steps dressed in a trade crimson gown and heels.

Giggling softly she flashed her gums and babbled loudly in her patented baby speech while clapping her hands. Like a magnet to metal her mothers eyes connected to hers and she grinned.

Picking her up into the cradle of her arms she pressed her head to hers.

"Did you have a good lesson?" She cooed. "Soon you'll be speaking better French than me." Facing her tutor she nodded to Cecile.

"_Vous pouvez aller_."(2) Her mother said, accent clear but pronunciation fairly good for an English woman.

Cecile rose nimbly from her seat and with a courtesy swept from the room.

"Well hello Vincent, Rachel I'm glad you could make it." Her mother greeted courteously.

"And we are glad to be here." Vincent said charmingly, like the graceful guest he was.

"Now why don't we go take a seat on the veranda while I have tea made." Angelina invited. "It's time for Lolly's lunch anyways."

Leading them to her patio she took a seat in a lavishly comfortable chair and propped Lalonde up on her stomach.

"So I suppose you have questions about this entire situation so let's get this out of the way." Her mother said bluntly with a wan expression.

Rachel was the first to explode.

"I understand the reasoning behind your actions but I would have preferred if you would have shouldered some of the weight with me." She said with a scowl and arms crossed below her chest. "We are sisters and what use is that if we cannot share our problems?"

"Rachel-sister, listen, I wasn't sure if she would even survive long enough and I didn't want to tell you if she was just-"

The raven haired woman held up one dainty hand to silence her mother.

"I already said I understood the reason and I forgive you for not telling me." Her blue eyes narrowed. "But next time I trust you will come and trust me as I do you and inform me about the events in your life, correct?"

Despite her aunt Rachel only being the fraternal twin of her mother right now she seemed to be the spitting image of her. Especially with her blazing eyes, the determined set of her face, and clenched jaw, they looked more alike than she'd ever see in that moment.

Her mother seemed shocked by the spiel if the widening of her eyes was anything to go by but her surprised mask soon melted away into a warm smile paired with glittering eyes.

"Of course." Her mother nodded and like a switch had been thrown Rachel's stormy expression shifted into glitter and sunshine.

"Great!" She chirped. "Now where's the tea and cake? I am positively starved." She asked. "Vincent let's hurry up and eat so we can start bringing in the gifts from the carriages."

Her mother sputtered. "Gifts? Carriages? Rachel that is completely unnecessary!" She objected. "I spoil her enough for the both of us."

"Oh _nonsense_." She waved. "There's no harm in buying her more things, besides what use would having a toy making husband if I couldn't bring a dozen hundred toys for my loveable little niece Lal here?" Her aunt Rachel winked at her and Lalonde giggled.

If they wanted to shower her with expensive, pretty things who was she to object?

* * *

**So here's a new chapter. Lalonde met Rachel and Vincent. Please review.**

**1- Miss. Angelina didn't tell me there were going to be visitors today (or something close)**

**2- ****You** **may** **go. **

**Please excuse any errors and I thank all of you for reading this.**


	3. That Girl, That Prodigy

Lalonde Durless, by all accounts, was a blossoming prodigy. By the year mark she was starting to combine two words to make simple sentences such as "_maman sourire_"(1) or "_Je_ _faim_"(2) much to her French tutors delight. By all accounts Lalonde displayed a level of comprehension parents only dreamed of their drooling, screaming demons possessing. And though it made her feel proud to be acknowledged by so many, there were definite downsides to everything.

Now that she had informed her than she got on well with her educational material suddenly her work load began to increase. Adding the alphabet, the numbers, seasons, months, etc (both in English and French) and she couldn't even begin to tell you how annoying it was to have to relearn such menial things and her impatience only made her a horrid student. A horrid student who took to her childish studies like a fish to water which only cemented her high IQ in their books.

If anyone pointed to her they would whisper about the up and coming baby genius and how she was going to become a great medical practitioner like her mother, become respected like her mother, and take up a scalpel and become a surgeon like her mother was and Lalonde wanted to do nothing more than to go back and wish she had kept her mouth shut. Boredom had been her motivation and it was a cruel and manipulative mistress.

Honestly she had no idea how other children dealt and lived with this attention. The moment you showed a single iota of "superior" intelligence everyone hounded you like you were a mine filled with diamonds, pearls, and rubies. And if you only had a smile to offer you got a pinch on the cheek and a pat on the head.

Ignoring the woman attempting to coerce her into talking with her useless babble she nuzzled into her mother's neck and whined the words 'nap nap' in French as she pouted in dismay.

She was only lucky being smart didn't necessarily attract (too much) negative attention aside from a few of her mother's close friends prodding. Lalonde was happy the world she was born in wasn't one where children were expected to act like this. Where they were tools and gauged by how much mental awareness they show and the amount of talent they had. In example the worlds of Naruto, Bleach (if you lived in the Soul Society), and any gundam anime. She prefered not to be turned into a 13 month old soldier and sent off to a battle field thank you very much. No one would need another Itachi.

Here, Lalonde supposed, they fed your genius tendencies not expecting much but following in your mother's foot steps (if you were female) and for that she was grateful and ungrateful for. In this Victorian era women had a role, especially young girls, you did as expected and everyone praised you. You deviated from the course you were scorned. That was certainly what her mother faced as a woman who became a doctor and that made Lalonde respect her all the more for it.

Before she had died "Terry" had been studying to make medicine and that is what she would continue to do and eventually go into if nothing got in her way. Lalonde knew of the shady underworld that covered this version England and honestly she was not below selling to the seedy to practice on her own time, from poisons to antidotes she had learned, whether if it was from her classes or online perusals it was a well earned skill. And Lalonde was sure if she expressed interest in getting any of the ingredients to her mother she'd have them all within two days.

But all that could wait until she was older, she was positive she could make do with chemicals under the sink. Ammonia and Bleach were pretty interesting components.

Now back to her prodigal progress, when she first spoke to her mother the crimsoned eyed woman burst into tears and thoroughly startled the young child.

Unsure what to do but willing to fall back on her previous technique of quieting her, Lalonde crawled up to the weeping woman (because she was still too weak to walk) and tugged on her bangs. Liquid filled red eyes connected with two sun spots.

"_Maman, non_."(3) She pouted, willing her eyes to water and in less than two seconds flat Lalonde was cradled to her bosom.

"I love you so much!" Her mother smiled, pure joy radiating from her lean frame and flushed cheeks. "I wasn't crying because I was sad, I was crying because I was proud."

An "oh" expression stole over her face as Lalonde giggled, voice high in pitch. "_Heureux_!"(4)

Laughing her mother rubbed her nose to hers and pressed a kiss to her rounded cheek. "Yes heureux my bilingual little Lolly."

Needless to say for the rest of that week Lalonde was positively beaming in pride at her accomplishments and compliments. She had even played nice with all the strangers who were fascinated by the half French year old girl.

And her willingness led to her being constantly surrounded by new faces she refused to memorize. Guess she couldn't pin all the blame on the showcasing of her language skills. And. That. Sucked.

Closing her eyes she gripped the fabric of her mother's dress harder in her miniature palms.

Her mother was finally branching out again since the time of her birth. Lalonde was more than happy to help her reconnect with her friends because as much as she liked basking in the light of her mother's smile she couldn't monopolize her time as selfishly as she had been doing.

As the woman's shrill voice raised a few octaves Lalonde flinched. Be that as it may, if this continued on any longer she might turn into an antisocial, touch resistant girl...Well more so than she was now.

Ears perking up at the mention of arranging a play date between the woman's child, another kid, and her surfaced up Lalonde blanched, delicate face twisting in horror.

They wanted her to make friends with nose picking brats. This definitely was her worst idea yet.

* * *

**- smile**

**2- I hunger.**

**3- Mom, no.**

**4- Happy.**

**I apologize if any of her French is incorrect I just started studying from my dad. So here is more progress in Lalonde's life. Thank you all for reading this and please review!**

**Oh yeah Lalonde meets a familiar character next chapter for a play date, see if you can guess who it is. ;) I apologize for the lack of length.**


	4. That Girl, That Party, That Crush

Lalonde stared into the wide green eyes of the blond headed boy across for her with a wariness usually reserved for a fate of sure doom as she strategically attempted to make a retreat.

Edward Midford.

Son of Alexis Leon Midford and Francis Midford, elder brother to the not yet born Elizabeth Midford.

Edward Midford who has a sister complex.

Edward Midford who was a pompous douche.

Edward Midford who apparently had a crush on her.

Lalonde with a small pudgy hand swatted at the arms clutched around her midsection as she squirmed away from the hug. The five year old toddler pouted but wasn't deterred because as Lalonde shakily stood and began to waddle away the blonde haired boy followed behind her.

From the moment of their first meeting (the play date her and some other kid had) where he had brazenly walked up to her and, she quoted, said "I like red!" and gave her locks a rather vicious tug had the boy developed some infatuation with her. And like any hot headed child she had punched his face and told him that she didn't find the color yellow appealing at all. Honestly, she should have been tipped off by the sparkles that fluttered in his eyes but she didn't, and now she was stuck with him.

Shooting the boy a peeved look she toddled on over to her huge pile of presents as she tried to tune him out.

Lalonde was turning two today. It had officially been two years since she had been given this body. Two years since she had died. To others this only marked a milestone of age but to Lalonde it was proof that it would take alot more than passing away once to off her.

Observing the pile of brightly wrapped boxes she idly wondered which one housed a chemistry set. So wrapped up in her muses she literally jumped five feet in the air when a hand clamped down around her unsuspecting one.

Trailing her sunspot eyes down to the fingers tangled around her slack digits, Lalonde blinked and stared up at the cheerfully smiling young heir. Okay, this was new.

"..._Qu'est-ce que tu fais_?" She questioned but when she saw his unresponsive and confused face did she switch to common tongue.

"I said what are doing?" Lalonde repeated in her lightly accented voice. She would really need to remember that not everyone's "first" language was French.

A look of dawning surfaced on his face and he puffed out his little chest in pride. Okay, she would admit it, that was adorable.

"I'm holding your hand!" And he said it with such a proud voice that for a bit all Lalonde could do was stare. She would really need to bust this kid's bubble.

"...No." She deadpanned, wiggling out of his grasp and walked over to group of adults that consisted of the Phantomhives, the Midfords, and her mother. Sliding her hand into her mother's she gave it a squeeze and turned on her puppy eyes technique.

"_Maman, il ne sera pas me laisser seul_."(1) She stated, making sure her tone reflected none of her frustration but all of her annoyance because as flattering as it was to have fanboys she wasn't interested.

"_Lecture agréable_ Lalonde."(2) Her mother smiled as she pouted because UGH, she didn't want to!

"Such an intelligent girl." Francis said, her inquisitive emerald eyes regarding Lalonde as she shooed the mini Edward away.

"Yes, she takes so much after her father." Madame Red said with an air of wistful happiness.

"I don't know Angelina," Rachel began with a tap to her chin. "There seems to be alot of you in here, especially concerning her expressions." She commented as the group of adults glanced at the scowl on her face.

"Not to mention she seems to be the spitting image of you." Alexis said, eyes tracing the similar curve of her face and her crimson hair. "She's even developing your fashion sense Madame Red."

Her mother mock scowled. "There is nothing wrong with maroon! In fact I think it emphasizes her unique coloring!"

"And it does Angelina," Vincent grinned. "Especially those golden eyes of hers."

"I know," Her mother agreed. "We were so sure that my features would dominate her face. I'm happy at least a splash of his coloring made it through."

"So," Her mother said after a pause. "How is the business Vincent? I hear sales are booming."

And her Lalonde ceased paying attention. She could pin the blame on her childish attention span but really it just didn't interest her.

Wandering back over to pile of gifts she started the painstakingly long process of reading the cards on the sides that told you what exactly was hidden. She didn't know if this was a English thing to do but damn was it useful.

Paint set.

Not it.

Philosophical book set.

No but this would go in the get-to-later pile.

Jewelry, dolls, blocks, rather fashionable clothes.

No, no, no, and no.

Sighing she looked around. This wasn't going the way she pictured it.

A hand touched hers and Lalonde whirled around to face Edward. A thought occurred to her and with no little amount of trepidation did she roll it about within her head. She didn't like emotionally manipulating someone who would eventually be close to her family. Especially if they seemed to harbor romantic feelings towards her, no matter how childish they seemed to be. Sometimes if you humored them you'd have a Yandere stalker on your trail. But even if she didn't like it she really really wanted to find that chemistry set!

Squaring her shoulders she stepped closer to Edward.

"You want to hold my hand yeah?" She asked with a quirked brow.

Edward gave her a series of eager nods. "I like Lalonde's red!"

She waved his enthusiasm off. "Oui oui," Lalonde said. "Flattery will get you no where. Now do you know your letters?" He was the heir of an influential family, he damn well better.

"Yes! Do you to see? A-B-C-D-E-" The rest trailed off into muffled a muffled alphabet, his mouth covered by Lalonde's palm.

"Very good Eddie." She smiled. "Now I want you to look on these tags right here," Lalonde gestured. "and find any that say C-H-E-M, okay?"

The blond boy nodded, happy to please her. "Yes Lalonde! Whatever you want!" And off he went.

Turning back to her own search it only took twenty five more presents on her part and forty on his (such a hard worker) for Edward to find what she was searching for.

"Lalonde! I found the C-H-E-M!" He called, an accomplished grin on his round face. Making her way over she peaked at the tag.

"Chemistry and botanicals." She read. "Good work."

"Lalonde!" Her mother called she knew it was time to cut the cake. About to turn on her heel she caught the pensive and fidgety look on Edward's face. Oh yeah.

Sighing louder this time she stuck out her hand and waved him over. "Come on, a deal's a deal."

With a rather embarrassing squeal he latched on and Lalonde tugged him towards the large table in the center of the room muttering a low "this means nothing" to the boy. A sentence which she suspected sailed right over his head at the gleeful feeling of her consensually touching him. She rolled her eyes. Children.

Catching her mother's amused look Lalonde shrugged refusing to seem like she had been caught with her pants down.

"I owed him." She explained, hefting the wrapped gift up to eye level.

"You couldn't wait, could you?" Her mother tsked with a shake of her head. "Well come on, the birthday girl needs to have the first slice of her cake."

* * *

**Okay so here's this chapter. Edward is three years older than Lalonde. And Lalonde will be six when Ciel is born because Ciel was roughly twelve/thirteenish when Edward was roughly nineteen in College. So when Ciel is twelve Lalonde will be sixteenth verging on seventeen. Hope that made sense. Please review and thank you for reading. Excuse any errors.**

**1- Mom, he won't leave me alone.**

**2- Play nice Lalonde.**


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